


the scene where we first fell in love

by bangin_patchouli



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Luwoo, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, NCT Dream - Freeform, NCT U, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Relationships, Texting, a bit of, chat fic, text fic, woocas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-30 14:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangin_patchouli/pseuds/bangin_patchouli
Summary: a collection of nct drabbles(i can do requests; more info in notes)





	1. i'm older (chenle/lucas)

**Author's Note:**

> okay so, i'm starting back up writing (i say this, i know, but i'm trying to actually) and with theses it's easier to stay focused on rather than a long fic. so! if you have an ideas, any pairing, ill do mostly anything, just leave it in the comments!! i'll remember to look thru them. be sure to put the pairing, the situation, and any other specific things you want included.

      “hyung, come here,” chenle calls from the couch, voice overtaken by the one a.m. darkness that crowds in from outside the windows. he watches as lucas passes through the hallway that overlaps his own dorms, from the living room; the dim lamp light catches a blonde highlight in the older’s hair. lucas stops, feet stumbling unintentionally as he turns to stand just out of the light, eyes half open as they train partially on the blonde boy on the couch. chenle resists the frown of empathy that attempts to force itself onto his lips as he looks at lucas where he stands. the older, while not the darkest of sorts normally, looks pallid, even in the shadow of the doorway, all color absent from the usual blush of rapture that resides on his cheeks. his shoulders seem to be slanted at a fixed angle toward the floor, like he's got a bag of sand of equal weight to his body placed upon him. his hands are empty, chenle's sure he's lost his phone again, and they lie still and limp at his sides. the navy colored costume suit that all u's members' had donned not even an hour before had been since replaced by loose grey (old) sweats and a plain red long sleeve -- it looked too thin to be wearing without a jacket outside, from where lucas had just come. chenle felt more than obligated.

      "i'm serious, xuxi," he says, this time in chinese, just to truly catch lucas' attention. the shuffled steps lucas takes seem to be akin to those of a turtle, but chenle does nothing but wait patiently, sweatpants-covered knee pulled up to his chest and held in place by his arms. up this close, with all of the stage makeup long removed, chenle can see the new purple crescent under both of the older's eyes, and how his eyes seem to droop into a state of sleepwalking all together.

      "what," lucas mumbles, and chenle then releases the strong frown that had been waiting behind his lips. lucas' voice, while quiet, is small in size and strangled-sounding, like he'd been belting high notes all night; well, he wasn't doyoung, or jungwoo. not on his first track at least, not in a place other than the confines of their dorm.

      "what do you mean what?" chenle utters, sounding unlike himself enough to fake a disdainful laugh. he pats two times the empty space on the couch cushion beside him. "sit down."

      "chenle," lucas breathes, more of a whine that chenle wishes he could laugh at. "i just wanna go to sleep."

      "you can. come here." chenle pats the couch again, gentler this time, and with a twitch of his lip that looks oddly like the beginning of a pout, lucas pivots roughly and, even more roughly, settles himself in a collapsed, slumping position next to the younger boy. "that wasn't so hard."

      "i'm older than you," lucas grumbles, crossing his thinly covered arms over his slowly rising and falling chest, nearly unfocused eyes trained on the dim yellow nothingness in front of him. he's slumped on the back of the couch below chenle, and the latter looks down silently to lucas' face as he tries to keep it stone cold. chenle  softens his gaze inadvertently, breathing out and tilting his head toward the right. lightly, he stretches a hand out, and up, straight out, until its a centimeter from lucas' face, and then touching, softly, brushing the hair from the older's forehead. chenle doesn't need to say that it's an excuse to feel lucas' forehead, and he doesn't try to hold back the muted surprise when he finds the skin there to be warmer than it should be.

      "i don't know how to administer medicine," chenle says, more to himself than to lucas. "i don't even know if we have any."

      "i don't need it," lucas says, and chenle immediately retracts his hand a bit to place it a bit more firmly onto lucas' shoulder.

      "listen, i might be younger, but -," chenle begins, readying his  _i'm sorry but i know what i'm doing, lucas_ speech, but the offending latter cuts him off with a gruff,

      "no, i mean i already got some," he says at a near whisper. "jungwoo knows how to use that shit- ah, i mean, that stuff. i'm fine."

      chenle settles back into the position with bad posture, formerly firm hand relaxing to rest reassuringly over lucas' surprisingly narrow shoulder. he feels his look soften again, and with this image of lucas beside him, all pouting lips and crossed arms, he wonders how their age difference adds up to three years. he can't help it when he reaches his hand delicately around lucas' shoulders, and he can't stop the sympathetic smile, albeit small, that takes over his lips when lucas lets himself fall silently to rest again chenle's side, a tall deadweight on the younger's shoulder. chenle doesn't mind, won't mind.

      "i'm not scared, but," lucas begins, louder than before, less clear, and he catches chenle off guard at the sudden change in mood. "but i'm scared," he continues, softer, "that i won't be able to do it."

      chenle feels his heart sink just a bit. "do what?"

      lucas gestures a halfhearted hand out in front of him. "this. how am i supposed to be good at it if i get sick during the promotions of debut?" he asks, the hopelessness of late-night, fever induced thoughts dripping through his tone. his hand drops back down, and chenle moves to pick it back up and take it into his, a physical token of his concern and understanding coming in the form of a smaller thumb rubbing across the top of lucas' cold hand.

      "you're not alone in this," chenle whispers, letting his hand move independently from lucas' opposite shoulder to rise and hold gently the side of the older's head, and lucas sinks further. "xuxi, if you think you are, i promise you, we don't mean for it to seem like-"

      "no, you don't. it's not you, i just," lucas' voice is below volume now, the words just riding on his exhalations as he breathes, "get scared sometimes. it's okay."

      "hey," chenle says, letting a sliver of playfulness back into his tone, "i'm supposed to be telling you that right now." he feels the deep vibrations of lucas' laugh in his own side rather than hears them, and lets one of his own, higher giggles loose before settling the silence with a mild kiss to the top of lucas' head. "it's okay."

      chenle watches lucas as he turns his head down, knows why he does it; he's the kind of person that doesn't know what to do when someone shows their worry over him. he knows lucas' eyes are glued to his lap, knows his cheeks might have color now, can feel the older's fingers fiddling with chenle's own, but he wraps his arm farther around lucas' shoulders, feeling the latter's blond hairs tickle the underside of his chin. for someone of his stature, lucas fits well under the curve of chenle's arms around him and on top of the flank of his side. the older's excessive warmth begins to spread to chenle, shutting down his senses quickly and bringing on a sense of heaviness.

      "i'm tired," lucas whispers, voice rougher than before.

      "lie down," chenle offers, more so tells him, and lucas shifts to face him from a downward angle. his eyes ask  _where?,_ and chenle pats his own lap, smiling slightly at the expression that belatedly dons lucas' face. "right here. i said you could sleep here, didn't i?"

      "yeah, i guess." lucas shifts again, nearly elbowing chenle in the side. he curls his long legs in, hand bracing over chenle's knee, and the latter lets him situate on his own, hands awaiting their coming position over lucas in the air. lucas' hair splays over chenle's sweatpants, his hands curling lightly into weak fists on top of the younger's thighs, and the cold creeps slowly back to chenle's side where lucas' heated body is now missing, and falls instantly over his lap instead. lucas' fingers inch to grasp onto the fabric of chenle's pants, like he would hold his sheets, and chenle lets his forearm fall to rest over lucas' shoulder and guides the other hand to card into the latter's blonde locks.

      "are you comfortable?" chenle asks softly, and he only gets a surly  _mmm_ in return. his hands brush through lucas' dyed hair, and he feels the older letting his body become weight down by sleep over top his lap. he traces his other hand down lucas' warm back, combining the soothing notions until the older's breathing evens visibly. 

      chenle looks down, somewhat solemnly, at the boy asleep on his lap, and suddenly feels the need to laugh. lucas is older, three years the difference, but for some reason, he feels like the one who needs to take care of him. he isn't sure if it's because he's been doing this longer, or just because lucas gives off the aura of a boy who's no idea what he's meant to be doing, or both, or something else. he won't move, though, not as long as lucas needs him there.


	2. i'll be your morning star (jaeten)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> simply, jaehyun has a nightmare; ten is his roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is written for my bestest est est est friend ever grace, as will the next two fics be! remember, leave reqs in the comments!

_ No _ ..

 

It’s that softly spoken, sleep strangled word sounding from across the room that shakes Ten roughly from his dreamless sleep. The room is nearly pitch black, creating a sort of filmy darkness as Ten sits up, white sheets falling off of his body and pooling in his lap, and squints in the direction of the disquieting word. He can’t make anything out at first, just barely the outline of Jaehyun’s bed, the unruly pile of clothes waiting to be washed, and, as the pearly moonlight falls in through the window, Jaehyun.

Ten straightens, wiping at his eye to clear his hazy vision, hand tense on the bed as he searched desperately in the darkness to make out Jaehyun’s figure. He stretches over more, inches his legs off the bed, wincing when his toes make it to the icy cold of the hardwood floor, slides off the edge of the bed just enough, and then he does. Jaehyun shifts harshly on the the messy mattress. Ten blinks again, and he sees Jaehyun’s hands fisted painfully hard into his thinly striped sheets. He focuses in, and he hears harsh, heavy breathing, coming out in pleading whispers, quiet, frantic cries.

“Jaehyun?” Ten whispers, then again, “Jaehyun,” when his voice doesn’t carry across the room. The mentioned makes no sign of perception, just turns the opposite way, facing the wall.

Ten stands, fully then, and makes a quick move to Jaehyun’s bed, taking a light seat on the side that Jaehyun’s just abandoned; it’s still warm under Ten’s bare legs. He puts a hand, a cold on, on Jaehyun’s bare arm where the short sleeve of his shirt’s been pushed up over his bicep, feels the muscles tense and loosen under his fingers. Jaehyun curls in on himself, and the whimper that leaves his lips gashes a length into Ten’s heart. 

“Jaehyun,” Ten murmurs, giving a light shake to no avail. “Baby, wake up.”

Jaehyun rolls then, sharply, back to his left, right into Ten’s stomach, his arms shielding his face and startling Ten back a bit in the process. Ten lets his hands fall down slowly to cup Jaehyun’s head, subconsciously brushing his fingers through the dyed red strands. He does that for a moment, staying put when Jaehyun grips his bare knee tightly in his warm hand. Jaehyun stays for a moment like that, tense and clung onto Ten, eyes hidden like there’s something that he doesn’t want to see.

“Jae,” Ten tries again, softly, trailing a mild hand down Jaehyun’s back and up again, repeat. “Wake up, baby.. It’s a nightmare, come on, baby.”

With a soothing run of Ten’s hand down his arm, Jaehyun takes a sharp breath in, and doesn’t let it out in favor of breaking out a murmured,

“Ten?”

Ten doesn’t look, but moves his hand to feel Jaehyun’s warm cheek under his cool thumb; it’s damp there, but he doesn’t say anything. Jaehyun’s hand reaches up to grasp around Ten’s smaller wrist, his fingers as tight as his eyes are closed.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Ten says, slowly, brushing his hindered hand over Jaehyun’s mussed red hair again and again. He doesn’t say the cliche,  _ it was just a nightmare _ , even as it sits on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say it because he wouldn’t want to hear it had the roles been reversed. “It’s not real.”

With a trembling exhale and a stab to Ten’s heart, Jaehyun buries his head again into the older’s stomach, letting Ten’s hands work gently in their place. They stay like that; Ten lets Jaehyun remember how to breathe, holds him until he’s ready to speak, feels a thump in his heart each time a shudder forces its way through Jaehyun’s muscles.

“Come down here,” Jaehyun whispers after a while, twisting his fingers into Ten’s oversized white t-shirt; he doesn’t quite remember from who he stole it. It’s been years, anyway. Ten obliges Jaehyun, leaning on his elbows momentarily to sink down onto the mattress and feeling Jaehyun loosen into his arms. It’s different. Ten, yes, he’s touchy; he likes being touched, hugged, kissed even, at home. And, sure, he likes touching, too; but, this is different. This isn’t just touching, and this time, Ten is the one. The one, holding him, touching his hair, securing him the way he know he likes it. It’s different, but it’s what feels right.

“Turn,” Ten says, placing a firm hand on Jaehyun’s arm again in an attempt to guide him. Jaehyun doesn’t need it though, and in seconds Jaehyun’s warm back fits faultlessly against Ten’s frontside, and Ten’s hands find their way around Jaehyun’s midsection and interlock with the latter’s own fingers. Jaehyun’s hair smells like Ten’s shampoo; he doesn’t mind. It tickles his nose.

“It was Taeyong,” Jaehyun mumbles, words even more so muffled on the other side. “In my dream. He..”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ten reassures him. “You can just go back to sleep, if you want to.”

“No, I need to.. talk about it. Is that okay?” Jaehyun asks, voice small, and it’s so unlike him that Ten feels his own brow furrowing in sympathy.

“Of course,” Ten murmurs into the tender back of Jaehyun’s neck. “Of course that’s okay.”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun says, and Ten purposely settles further around Jaehyun’s waist, ever so slightly wisping his lips over the back of Jaehyun’s neck, his shoulders. “He just. Some people started following us, I think we we’re coming back from an event or whatever. It doesn’t really matter. They just- they just took him,” He stops, and Ten feels him look down; he doesn’t say anything. After a breath, Jaehyun whispers, “He was gone, but I could hear him screaming, somewhere.”

Ten can feel a pout on his lips, and urges it not to sound apparent in his voice when he speaks. He rubs a gentle hand over Jaehyun’s abdomen, wishing it wasn’t so tense there.

“Taeyong is just fine,” Ten soothes, “I promise you. I can check, if you want. Or text him.”

“No, no it’s,” Jaehyun pauses, and Ten can hear the fatigue, more so than before, creeping back into his voice. “It’s okay. I know it was just a dream.”

“Alright,” Ten hums, letting his lips yet again trace invisible, impossible outlines on Jaehyun’s skin. They’re not meant to be anything but comforting, and the message conveys. Jaehyun shifts his arm to catch Ten’s hand in a soft clasp under the covers, against his waist.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun whispers, and it’s nearly laughable how fast he’s out after that. Ten presses one more, somehow unnecessary yet necessary, kiss, this time to Jaehyun’s cheek, before resting his head against Jaehyun’s only pillow that they’re currently sharing.

“Goodnight, Jae.”


	3. i love it, oh i love it (markhei//part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "date me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT this is like. roughly inspired by man in a movie by day6 hence the title and hopefully hence the general mood of it all. for my friend eileen whom i love very much thank you for helping me get my writing shit back again queen mwah. anyway im gonna get working on the reqs soon i swear it. also this is my first attempt at a bit of a chat fic i hope it's funny lol

      fireworks erupt in the library, shattering the ear-piercing silence. glowing, magic lights illuminate its every dull corner. every color magnifies, becoming intense within just seconds. not literally, of course. in mark’s eyes, though, every object, every sleep-deprived young adult, even the eighty year old librarian, animates into sudden life, expressions extraordinarily readable. each object of insentience has a spirited purpose now, as if they’ve all just began to dance around the room, around mark and the boy that’s just lit up his world.

      “oh, wow! I’m sorry,” says the root of mark’s new reason for existence, in a voice so deep it’s shocking. for a moment, mark wonders why the boy’s just apologized before remembering that  _ oh fuck.. I was the one that bumped into  _ him.  _ And  _ he’s  _ apologizing. _

      “no! no, no,” mark blurts, making a belated move to retrieve the boy’s books from the ground, the ones he dropped when mark had the audacity to bump into him. “It was my fault."

      the boy is  _ tall _ , to say the very, very least. mark has to crane to find out that his hair is a soft brown, and that his eyes are bright, brighter than the light that hangs haphazardly above them, seeming to sway in mark's new vision. his smile, though - it leaves mark taken aback. why is he smiling?

      "why are you smiling?" mark asks before he means to. the other boy's sparkling, enlightening smile only widens. mark's brain might be falsifying the slightly heart-shaped lips at which he's rather impertinently staring. the snow falling in sheets outside seems to blur into the background, all sounds dull, and mark really starts to wonder how a stranger's managed to capture his attention this fully while he can't stay awake in class for more than three seconds. regardless, he doesn't breathe, dumbfoundedly awaiting the boy's answer.

      "well, usually, i only manage to run into that witch of a woman, or the occasional bookshelf," the boy reasons, as if mark  _ isn't _ blatantly gawking at him, no matter how well he thinks he's concealing it. 

_       he runs into bookshelves. _ there's only one thing mark can think to say.

      "i'm mark," he says, and from where, again, did that confidence in his voice come? "mark lee."

      the following seconds seem to blow mark's mind even farther. or maybe it's his heart that's exploding. the boy adds teeth to his smile, big pearly whites that seem to outshine any old words, any passerby, any past-due books that try to avert mark's attention.

      "i'm yuk hei," he says, and mark wonders if yuk hei is being too loud for the library, or if it's just him. "wong yuk hei, and i think you might have just saved me from a  _ beautiful _ night here in this hellhole full of books."

      mark blinks. he's in overdrive, the pilot in his brain is turning the thrusters to light speed, and suddenly he's saying,  _ boldly, _

      "i know a place, down the street." yuk hei's eyes widen, a silent way of asking incredulously,  _ outside, in all that snow? _  "don't worry. a little snow won't hurt you. i promise."

      the wink adorns his face before he can stop it;  _ what are you, a fuckboy? _ the positively startled look on yuk hei's face is worth the shamelessness, though. one hundred percent. 

 

\--

 

_ the gays™  _

 

**_taeyong_ **

_ so mark. yuk hei. what’s uh. poppin _

 

**_donghyuck_ **

_ taeyong shut the fuck up you don’t even  _

_ know how to /properly/ ask for the tea _

 

**_donghyuck_ **

_ allow me _

 

**_donghyuck_ **

_ *insert wendy williams meme* _

_ spill _

 

**_mark_ **

_ wjat the fucj _

_ why am i friends with either of you _

 

**_taeyong_ **

_ JUST FUCKING SPILL _

 

**_donghyuck_ **

_ thats better. see you’re learning _

 

**_taeyong_ **

_ i’m tired of watching you text this boy and _

_ i dont even know what he looks like!!! please _

_ feed me im starving _

 

**_mark_ **

_ shyt the hell up taeyong _

 

**_mark_ **

_ youre just livign vicariously thru me _

 

**_taeyong_ **

_. and _

 

**_mark_ **

_ fine FIEN. jesus chirst _

 

**_mark_ **

_ im planning on- _

 

**_donghyuck_ **

_ PLANNING ON WHAT you had best tell before _

_ i Literally beat your ass _

 

**_mark_ **

_ donhgyuck im older than yyou _

 

**_donghyuck_ **

_ does it look like im fucking around _

**_mark_ **

_ FUCKING FINE _

 

**_mark_ **

_ im planning on _

 

**_mark_ **

_ asking him out todau _

 

**_taeyong_ **

_ you what _

 

**_taeyong_ **

_ you fucking What _

 

**_mark_ **

_ ok bye gotta fuckign blast _

_ he’s already thetre god fucjign im late _

_ already bye!!!!! _

 

**_donghyuck_ **

_ MARK FUCJIJG LEE I SWEAR TO _

_ ACTUAL GOD GET BACK HERE _

 

**_donghyuck_ **

_ WE ARE NOT DONE HERE _

 

_ [ _ **_donghyuck_ ** _ has been removed from the chat] _

 

**_taeyong_ **

_ damn _

 

**_mark_ **

_ finalyl some good fuckign sielence _

 

\--

 

      the jingle of the door rings in mark’s ears as the warmth of the familiar cafe greets him. he releases a shiver, but ignores it and lets his eyes wander around the kind scene of the room until he catches the top of an even more familiar, highlighted head of brown hair. mark’s heart beats unnecessarily in his chest, just at the sight of yuk hei.

      as if he could read mark’s jumbled thoughts, yuk hei turns to meet mark’s eyes. he smiles, then, and mark is glad he can’t, as he’s a human and _ not  _ snow, physically melt. mark weaves through the dense tables and chairs until he reaches their unofficially designated booth in the back corner. on their first date, -- the one in which mark had supposedly heroically saved yuk hei from a (probably needed) night of studying and loneliness -- yuk hei had picked it out because  _ come on, i like the little cat painting on the wall! he looks so.. happy. _ it’s their fourth date now, among many, many “study” dates, late movie nights, and rushed meetups between classes, and mark still manages to sit under that godforsaken cat painting, just so yuk hei can look at it from the other side of the table; he ignores the fact that the cat is one of the ugliest things he’s  _ ever _ seen. if yuk hei likes it, he’s happy enough.

      mark shakes himself out of his thoughts and slides into the worn brown leather booth across from yuk hei. upon meeting yuk hei properly, mark is shocked into another silence. the other boy is wearing a yellow t-shirt, a worn plaid flannel over top of it. it’s got a little cartoon dog, a doodle more like, on the breast pocket, which has a pen hanging from it -- but that’s not what alarms mark. it’s what he sees when he looks up. a bright, shining red gash decorates yuk hei’s bottom lip, nearly dead in the middle; yuk hei is still smiling, though. less noticeably, a washed-out blue and purple bruise covers his right cheek. mark stands immediately, virtually all but jumping from his seat, hands already outstretched, with an almost laughable amount of  _ parental care _ splattered about his expression.

      “what the hell happened?” he interrogates, slipping promptly into the now crowded booth next to yuk hei, his cold hands on each side of the other’s face. yuk hei’s eyes widen, he blinks, and mark falls for him, again. it might possibly be the fourteenth-thousand time. there’s no way in hell he’d be able to keep up that impossible count.

      “nothing!” yuk hei attempts to assure him, bigger, warm hands coming to half heartedly grasp at mark’s wrists. mark examines yuk hei’s wounded face much, much more than half heartedly, tilting it this way and that, looking for any other affliction. “nothing, really..”

      “nothing really?” mark says, not angrily. he drops one hand gently, leaving the other. his finger is dangerously close to yuk hei’s lips. “seriously. is that why you look like you got into a bar fight? you better not be going into bars, yuk hei, i swear to god.”

      “i’m not! i’m not,” yuk hei bumbles, holding his hands up partially in his defense before letting them fall to his lap along with his gaze. “i just.. fellupmysteps.”

      mark isn’t sure he heard yuk hei clearly. “you what?”

      yuk hei flashes his eyes, all big and puppy-like, and mark literally can’t think of anyone who’s ever made his heart beat faster than it’s beating right in this moment. yuk hei releases a big sigh, and mark urges him on with a soft brush of his thumb to his cheek.

      “i tripped up the stairs to my apartment, okay,” yuk hei mutters. 

      there’s a conversational silence, only the sound of the clatter of glass, the ringing of the door’s bell, and mark’s fading heartbeat making it so. and then mark laughs.

      “what?” yuk hei asks, louder than before, eyes wide and questioning, at least from what mark can see through his squinted eyes as he laughs. “why’s it funny? my lip hurts..”

      all it takes is two elongated blinks of yuk hei’s eyes, the inching of his soft fingers back onto mark’s wrist, and the mirth suddenly leaves mark’s chest. one inhale, and mark is suddenly reminded that everything he’s been chasing after, everything he desires, everything he wants to protect and care for, everything he’s  _ sure _ he loves, or at least has strong, raging feelings for, is sitting, with a  _ goddamn pout _ on is bruised yet still somehow beautiful lips, right there in front of him. well, technically beside him. the words leave his mouth before he can even think to stop them.

      “date me.”

      mark holds his breath. his brain can’t seem to stop sending out alerts, something along the lines of  _ you fucked it up you fucked it up you fucked it up _ to every nerve in his body. his hand freezes rigid in its place on yuk hei’s cheek. his heartbeat overrides all other noise in his ears, and he’s painfully aware of the way yuk hei’s brown eyes widen with each dazed blink. mark begins to earnestly regret his words, all two of them. he begins to form a cluttered, albeit sincere, apology, feels it on the tip of his tongue as his hand begins to retreat from yuk hei’s face when-

      “okay.”

      mark thinks he might be hearing things.  _ i’m out of my fucking mind, for real this time. _ yuk hei blinks again, --  _ damn, does he need some contact solution?  _ \-- but this time, it’s  _ not _ confused for once. this time, he looks as sure as mark has ever seen him.

      “come again?” mark fumbles, shaking his head. yuk hei, apparently under some different circumstances than mark in his  _ clearly _ overwhelmed state, giggles. he fucking  _ giggles _ , and mark feels his world crashing down, again. this time, it doesn’t hurt.

      “i  _ said _ ,” yuk hei prepares himself for an exaggerated repetition, one that, just so happens, mark  _ really _ wants to hear. “okay.”

      “okay as in..” mark slowly brings his hand back up to yuk hei’s cheek, where blush seems to have flowered under the benign sepia light. “i can do  _ this _ ?”

      yuk hei seems to be getting closer, but that might just be mark pulling him; neither of them really know. yuk hei’s eyes are glistening amber, twinkling just centimeters away from mark’s own. his lips, even the busted cut smack in the middle, look so, so  _ kissable _ , just waiting there.

      “depends on what  _ this _ is,” yuk hei whispers, but mark can hear him perfectly, this close.

      “this.”

      mark closes what little distance there is in a matter of slowed seconds. their noses collide a bit at first, and mark feels rather than hears yuk hei’s giggle this time. mark’s already occupied hand secures its grasp to cup yuk hei’s cheek, and he snakes the other to hide under the latter’s flannel, just so against his waist. he feels yuk hei’s hand move lingeringly to fall gently on his shoulder, the other fisting a bit into mark’s hoodie. yuk hei’s breath is warm on mark’s lips and his cheeks, and smells of those soft peppermints; the back of mark’s mind tells him to snag one later. in moments, yuk hei’s lips are soft against mark’s own. the healing laceration in the center rubs roughly against mark’s bottom lip, and in the midst of the moment, mark remembers to be as careful as he possibly can. yuk hei feels like heaven beneath his hands, beneath his lips. mark adores it, adores him. yuk hei is unequivocal.

      yuk hei also is human, which means that he really does need to breathe, contrary to mark’s temporary belief. yuk hei sets a bit of space between them, and mark can’t help but steady his easy hold on yuk hei’s cheek and his waist. mark is faintly dazed, whether it be from the kiss or the sheepish grin embellishing yuk hei’s just recently kissed lips; his head swims slightly, but yuk hei’s rosy face is in perfect focus.

      “yes,” yuk hei breathes, “you can do that.”

      mark feels more exhilarated than he has ever before, in his entire life, and  _ yes _ , that includes the time he almost fell off the side of the eungbongsan mountain.

      “in fact, i really wouldn’t mind if you just so happened to do it again,” yuk hei says, and mark cuts off his own laugh against yuk hei’s smiling lips.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in less than two days also its 2 am


	4. heating (woocas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yuk hei doesn't have a problem with the cold, but right now, it's three in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been in my drafts since april and i finished it Just Now. since its woocas i figured it would catch some attention. i swear I'm working on your requests I'm just awful. anyway hope you like it i guess lol

     yuk hei doesn't have a problem with the cold. in fact, he doesn't have a  _ problem _ with any kind of weather: whether it's raining, shining, snowing, he'll always find a way to enjoy himself, or at the very least not suffer. he was even content, back during trainee days, when the sidewalk was impossible to see through the snow and he still had half a mile to walk - run - to get to practice. in the light to of day, it all amazed him, really.

     but right now, it's three in the morning. yuk hei's bare fingers sting from the contact with the icy metal door handle, and he regrets taking off his shoes a split second after he does it. the dorm apartments are silent, like he should expect them to be at this unfriendly hour; shadows creep slowly in the partial absence of light, and yuk hei looks away, attributing the movement to his lack of genuine rest. the distraction having passed, the cold crawls back onto his skin and reminds him of three things: it's three a.m., fifteen degrees outside, and, after being born and raised in the heat of hong kong, whether he minds the cold or not, his body definitely,  _ definitely _ minds.

     halfway through yuk hei's silent, lengthy decision making process concerning whether or not he should eat, taking place where he stands, barefooted, in the living room, he hears the naturally ominous creak of an opening door sound from the hallway before him. all of his muscles tense, and his thoughts stop whirring in their place; the suddenly intense beating of his heart replaces the sound of breathing in his ears. he hears the shuffle of socked feet against hardwood floor, and the outline of a figure is slightly illuminated. a few moments of tightly held breaths and silence pass, and the yuk hei hears a soft,

     "lucas?"

     and all his fears melt away like the ice outside indubitably will in the morning. jungwoo walks sleepily out to meet yuk hei where he stands, freezing; the older is, somehow, only wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and yuk hei shivers at the idea of being that unclothed. 

     "what are you doing?" jungwoo asks at a murmur. he yawns, both hands covering his mouth; then his eyes widen. he asks, in a more serious (read here: uncommonly more threatening) tone, "did you just get home?"

     blinking, yuk hei nods a little bit, frozen yet again, this time due to the speed at which that heavy concern jumps into jungwoo's mannerisms. jungwoo becomes even closer, pulling yuk hei by both of his wrists, seeming to start some kind of examination, as if he'll be able to see a single thing in the dark of the living room. jungwoo's hand rises to rest, warm, on yuk hei's cold right cheek.

     "did someone make you stay behind?" jungwoo hounds, though his voice remains as gentle as his hands. "you know they aren't supposed to keep you, especially not now... 'specially not you!" his temper rises, yet his voice stays quiet, and yuk hei suddenly feels tired, comfortable enough to drift off right there, on his feet. in jungwoo's hands. "don't they know you're hurt?"

     jungwoo's hand brushes low against yuk hei's cheekbone along with the fall of his voice, and yuk hei attempts to blink himself awake.

     "i'm not," yuk hei mumbles, annoyed that he can't keep his words from messily stringing together. "nobody kept me, jungwoo."

     "you stayed on your own?" jungwoo questions, continuing when yuk hei doesn't respond. "you're going to end up more hurt than you already are now -!"

     "i'm not. i'm not, jungwoo," yuk hei interjects, the rumble in his voice scraping uncomfortably at his throat. jungwoo's hands come to touch gently down yuk hei's arms, and the latter nearly lets his body follow the downward suit.

     "i just wanna go to sleep, but..." yuk hei lets himself trail off, suddenly shy. he avoids jungwoo's searching eyes.

     "but what?" jungwoo asks, and this time, yuk hei hears a shiver in the older's as well as feels it in the fingertips around his arms.

     "i'm cold," yuk hei mumbles, partially hoping that jungwoo won't hear. but jungwoo does hear, and yuk hei feel's the former's fingers slip into his under the hem of his jacket, intertwining and taking hold all together.

     "come on, then," jungwoo murmurs, hardly louder than yuk hei had been before.

     before yuk hei can say a thing, or give up and decide to sleep fully clothed, jungwoo's brought him quietly back into their room. kun is an unconscious lump beneath the layers of his blankets, and every aspect of the room is as clean as ever, per jungwoo and his tendencies. in the near pitch black, jungwoo's hands find the fringe of yuk hei's jacket front, sliding it off in seconds and hurling yuk hei back into the cold from which he'd just come in the process. yuk hei instantly moves his arms to cover up again and replace the heat he lost.

     "hold on," jungwoo stop him, more so with the featherlight fingers brushing yuk hei's midriff than his voice. a nonexistent blast of cold wind overtakes all of his bare skin, and it requires a painful bite to his bottom lip to keep quiet.

     "i told you i'm cold!" yuk hei whisper-yells, "usually, that means keeping clothes  _ on _ not taking them  _ off. _ "

     "be quiet," jungwoo says, reaching to a small black spot on his bed. "do you want a sweatshirt or not?"

     yuk hei says nothing else, letting himself be enveloped in temporary darkness, glad that neither of them can see even when the sweatshirt is on; yuk hei definitely doesn't want jungwoo to see the hazy red that's slowly adorning his cheeks. a sudden jarring thought floods yuk hei’s mind, and his hand shoots to twist his fingers into the cotton of jungwoo’s t-shirt.

     “‘woo, i’m not taking my pants off,” yuk hei fumbles, automatically far too sheepish for his own liking.

     jungwoo just stops, soft hands freezing where they unnecessarily straighten yuk hei’s newfound sweatshirt. his eyes slowly trail up yuk hei’s chest, his neck, past his jaw, all the while never losing their look, or lack-there-of, lust. his eyes are gentle when they meet yuk hei’s.

     “i wasn’t going to make you, xuxi,” jungwoo whispers. the latter smooths his hand, again, very gently over yuk hei’s chest, down his shoulder, and then it slides around, palms resting smoothly, in a near caress, over yuk hei’s shoulder blade. the other hand snakes innocently under yuk hei’s arm, sweetly around his waist, and suddenly it’s jungwoo against him. jungwoo’s cheek is against his, long fringe tickling his cheek ever so slightly, hands softer than imaginable, holding him, breath paused somehow comfortably; yuk hei can do nothing but willingly melt into jungwoo’s touch. 

     with an inhale yuk hei hears enter jungwoo’s lungs, the elder's, grip tightens, as if yuk hei will fall away if he lets go, and, again, yuk hei twists his fingers into jungwoo’s t-shirt. jungwoo smells of hard vanilla and clean sheets, and yuk hei closes his eyes and mimics jungwoo’s breath.

     “xuxi,” jungwoo murmurs, somehow making his whisper sound fierce, like he  _ needs _ yuk hei to hear him. “i care about you.”

     jungwoo’s hand slips down again, pulling yuk hei preservatively into him more-so, and the younger is frozen into pliance by the words he’s just heard but an inch from his ear. jungwoo’s hands on his back, on his waist, where it  _ aches _ , the places he doesn’t  _ want _ it to ache, cover him in such a feeling of aid and warmth, and yet again, yuk hei can feel himself drifting, right there on his feet, against jungwoo’s bed, in jungwoo’s arms.

     “i need you to rest,” jungwoo breathes, and it’s almost silent. “sleep. come here. with me.”

     yuk hei, eyes closed with no recollection of closing them, lets jungwoo’s chill hand find his, and then jungwoo’s warmth is leaving yuk hei’s body. yuk hei tries fallibly to suppress his shiver. if kept closed by some unseeable force, yuk hei’s eyes remain shut. he doesn’t dare open them, like he can’t, not when he feels jungwoo switch their places where they stand, not when jungwoo pulls him down upon the bed by his hand. he half opens them only when jungwoo’s sheets, still warm, are beneath, and jungwoo’s leg, even warmer, is against his.

     “lay down, dumbass,” jungwoo says, any trace of malice absent from his voice as he tugs yuk hei down by the arm. “it’s not like we’ve never slept in the same bed.”

     jungwoo looks at him, lying on his side, so incredibly close. the moonlight filters in, all the illumination that the crescent can emit, and jungwoo’s face is alight, more visible than before. yuk hei feels the artless admiration creep up on him before he even has the chance to stop it. jungwoo’s eyes are on him in a way shouting  _ i  _ adore _ you _ , and yuk hei just can’t seem to formulate the proper response. jungwoo’s hair has fallen over his face in a way that softens it so, and for each word yuk hei wishes he would just  _ say _ , he just blinks. sometime after the blinking becomes excessive, jungwoo just smiles, lets a laugh, quiet as the commotion outside, and yuk hei’s tired heartbeat fumbles.

     “you’re pretty,” he blunders out, and jungwoo’s responds comes in the form of of his arms around yuk hei once again, a breath of a laugh expelling from his lungs against yuk hei’s head where it now rests under jungwoo’s chin. jungwoo’s fingers gently twine in the hairs at the back of yuk hei’s head, and yuk hei feels the mind-melting shivers trickle down his spine. he relaxes fluidly into jungwoo’s form, soft, as cold as it is edged or jagged. he lets himself drift into the feeling of jungwoo’s trailing hand faintly on his back and stretches his hand to fit over jungwoo’s side beneath the warm covers. jungwoo’s chest against his cheek moves soothingly, up and down.

     “and you’re tired,” jungwoo whispers in response to yuk hei’s previous, impulsive statement, and yuk hei would give anything to properly tell jungwoo how thankful he is that the older boy took his cursory outburst in stride, that jungwoo is here for him like he is now.

     “yeah,” yuk hei says, letting the whisper halfheartedly slip through his lips as he burrows closer into the crook of jungwoo’s soft neck. he finds it hard to discern the feeling of jungwoo’s lips against the top of his head in the kiss that sends him off from the clouds of sleep that begin to gather around him,dark and blue, preparing compassionately to take him away, into themselves.


End file.
